Zinnia

Zinnia turned her head to peer at the approaching vehicle. 'That must be Polly. No one else would be here at this hour.'

'With the possible exception of a few drug dealers or serial killers.'

'Do you always whine when things don't go your way?'

'Always.' Nick watched the car come to an uncertain halt a short distance away. 'Stay here. I'll handle this.'

'I don't think that's going to work. I told you, Polly Fenwick sounded very uneasy about having to deal with you all by yourself. That's why I'm here, remember?'

Nick almost smiled in spite of his foul mood. 'Does she think you'll be able to stop me if I decide to take the journal without paying for it?'

Zinnia folded her arms under her breasts. 'Morris told her that she could trust me to deal with this.'

'Trust you to deal with me, do you mean?'

Zinnia shrugged and said nothing, but her eyes did not waver.

For some reason Nick's mood lightened a little. 'Just how do you plan to handle me if things get tricky?'

She ignored him to peer instead at the other car. 'How can we be sure that's Mrs. Fenwick?'

'Finally, a sensible, one might even say, astute, question. I guess I'd better go see.' He cracked open the door. It slid smoothly up into the roof. He had removed the interior lamp earlier. No light came on to illuminate the inside of the Synchron.

'Nick, wait.' Zinnia leaned across the seat. Her eyes were very wide in the shadows. 'Don't-'

'Don't what?'

She hesitated. 'Don't do anything stupid.'

He smiled. 'I appreciate the advice, but I'm afraid it's a little too late. Stay in the car. If anything goes wrong, don't even think about getting involved. Just get the hell out of here.'

'Now you're starting to make me nervous.'

'It's about time.'

Leaving the Synchron's door open in case he needed to return to the vehicle in a hurry, he went forward to lounge against the gleaming fender.

He waited. He was good at waiting. Behind him he heard Zinnia slide across the console into the driver's seat.

'What's going on?' she asked urgently.

'Nothing.'

At that moment the door of the other vehicle slowly opened. In the glow of the interior light Nick saw two people, a middle-aged man and woman. Even from here he could see the anxiety in their faces.

Amateurs. That was reassuring.

'I'm sure that's Mrs. Fenwick.' Zinnia sounded vastly relieved. 'I saw a picture of her in Morris's shop.'

'Mr. Chastain?' Polly Fenwick's voice was high and shrill with tension.

Nick did not move. 'I'm Chastain.'

'Miss Spring is supposed to be here. She promised me she would come with you. I really don't know if I should go any further with this if she isn't here. Morris was very explicit in his note.'

'Miss Spring is in the car,' Nick said.

Zinnia leaned out the open door. 'It's all right, Mrs. Fenwick. I'm Zinnia Spring.'

'Oh, thank goodness.' Polly got stiffly out of the car. She clutched a package to her full bosom. 'Morris said I could trust you, Miss Spring.'

The man who had accompanied Polly opened the door on his side of the car. He got out and stood glaring at Nick over the roof. 'Let's get on with it. Did you bring the money?'

'I've got it,' Nick said. 'Locked in the trunk. I'm the only one who knows the combination. Who are you?'

'This is my good friend, Omar,' Polly said quickly. 'Omar Booker. I was afraid to come alone tonight.'

'Did you bring cash?' Omar demanded with a boldness clearly rooted in fear and desperation. 'The deal was for cash, you know.'

Even without the aid of his talent, Nick sensed that there was no real danger in the matrix tonight. He relaxed for the first time since he had gotten the call from Zinnia. Polly and Omar were terrified. They wanted the money very badly but they were scared. That was fine by him. He knew how to manipulate nervous people.

'I brought cash,' he said.

'The deal was for fifty thousand,' Omar reminded him shrilly.

'I know.' He would have paid a hundred thousand, two hundred thousand. He would have paid any amount for the journal. But there was no need to inform Polly and Omar of that fact.

The moonlight revealed Omar's suspicious scowl. 'How did you get so much cash together in such a short time?'

'I own a casino,' Nick reminded him softly. 'I don't have problems with cash. Or with very many other things, either.'

'Nick, stop it.' Zinnia's voice was sharp with disapproval. 'You're scaring the daylights out of them.'

'I'm not doing anything,' Nick muttered.

'You're trying to intimidate them.' She got out of the car. 'Come on over here, Mrs. Fenwick. Mr. Chastain will be happy to give you the money. Turn over the journal and we'll all go home and get some sleep.'

Polly hesitated. She glanced nervously back at Omar. He squared his shoulders in a determined fashion and came around the front of the car to join her. He switched on a flashlight and the pair crossed the grass to where the Synchron was parked.

'Get the money out of the trunk, Nick.' Zinnia gave him a small encouraging shove. 'Go on. We don't want to hang around here all night.'

Nick eyed her as he straightened away from the fender. 'Has anyone ever told you that you've got a tendency to be pushy?'

'It's been mentioned.'

'I'll bet it has.' Nick went to the trunk and deactivated the specially designed jelly-ice lock. No matrix ever trusted standard locks. He raised the lid and reached inside for the attache case that held the cash.

Zinnia turned to Polly. 'There's no need to be concerned, Mrs. Fenwick. Mr. Chastain fully intends to pay for the journal.'

'I'm sorry for all the secrecy,' Polly said. 'It's just that Morris's note made me very nervous. Of course, he may have exaggerated. He was a matrix-talent and you know what they're like.'

'I know,' Zinnia assured her. 'They tend to be delicate and overanxious.'

Nick slammed the lid of the trunk much harder than necessary.

'Everyone knows that matrix-talents are paranoid.' Omar watched Nick come forward with the attache case. 'Poor Polly suffered for years with Morris's odd fits and starts. Finally had to get out of the house.'

'It's been a miserable existence,' Polly said. 'The thing about being separated is that you aren't really free to get on with your life. I don't know what I would have done without Omar. He's been so kind and loyal.'

'I understand.' Zinnia looked at Nick. 'You can give Polly the money now.'

Omar frowned. 'Hold on, we want to see it, first. Got to make sure it's all there.'

'Whatever you say.' Nick set the case on the ground, unlocked it, and opened it.

Omar aimed the flashlight at the neatly bundled packets of crisp bills inside. His jaw fell open. 'Good lord. Will you look at that, Polly.'

Polly stared. 'That's a great deal of money, Mr. Chastain. I hadn't realized ... I mean, Morris told me that you would pay that much but I never dreamed-' She broke off.

'You asked for fifty grand.' Nick closed the case and snapped it shut. 'This is fifty grand. Now let me see the journal.'

'What?' Polly raised her eyes to his face in a bewildered manner.

'The Chastain journal,' Zinnia prompted gently. 'You can turn it over to Mr. Chastain now.'

'Oh, yes. Of course.' Polly shoved the package she had been holding into Nick's hand as if it were a jellycracker with a lit fuse. 'Take it. It's yours. I certainly have no use for it.'

Nick tightened his fingers around the package. His father's journal. He could feel the shape of a leather-bound